Disclaimer: 'T'isn't mine. Shocking, innit? I like mashed peas and mint blended with potato.
Challenge from: Beanacre0
Hermione Granger isn't just Hermione Granger, but has Multiple Personality Disorder. She has had it all her life, but no one has ever truly noticed except her parents. Mr and Mrs Granger die and Hermione is sent to Hogwarts/Grimauld Place and her other half comes to the forefront in the aftermath of her grief. Hermione/her Alter Ego falls in love over the year or so. Who with and what happens, you decide...
Rules
No Slash
Must be at least 10 Chapters
Must have fun!
Extra note: I've pushed the events of books 6 and 7 back; Draco isn't a Death Eater, Dumbles isn't dead, it is Seventh Year, the war hasn't yet started, Hermione is Head Girl, and the horcruxes aren't yet discovered (by Harry and Co. that is, Dumbles would clearly already know).
Mirror Image
Red and blue lights lit up the night sky, illuminating the quaint, white apartments of the suburb of Chelsea. The ambulance was a farce; designed to look like a saviour, when in fact, it was Death. Hermione knew they were both gone; her parents were dead, and it hadn't been a result of the impending war.
A drunken teenager, too young to legally drive solo, had lost control of his parents' sedan and collided head on with the Grangers' smaller car, killing her father instantly, though her mother had taken several agonising moments until her last breath eventually rattled out.
Tangled in the wreckage, Hermione's brain had broken down. Years of compartmentalisation fell apart, and the one thing she had never told anybody threatened to escape.
Let it happen. Free me and you free yourself.
Hermione had been trapped in the back seat for nearly two hours, her parents lifeless bodies propped up by the metal that had been pushed against them. She had waited, unaware of anything except that they were gone and she was being torn in half by her own mind, until finally the firemen had sliced through the door and pulled her to safety and placed her under a thorough medical examination.
Tears were long dried, staining her olive skin as the medics bustled around her efficiently. She picked up fragments of conversation as they murmured 'shock' and 'post traumatic stress' over the top of her head.
Let go, Hermione.
The young witch was barely aware of being placed upon a stretcher, and she didn't see nor hear the ambulance doors being closed, blocking out the world. Everything was shrouded in a hazy blanket, as if she were encased in bubblewrap.
OoO
Blinking slowly, Hermione recognised the white hospital walls for what they were, and reality came crashing back to her.
An agonised scream, weak but emotional, rang out - the sound brought with it a collection of nurses who held her down as a needle was inserted into her arm, making her feel feeble and drowsy.
No tears were falling, she noticed, though her body was still racked with dry sobs.
"Miss Granger, my name is Maryanne. I'm a nurse." A middle aged woman with blonde hair spoke quietly, but firmly as Hermione's hysterics ceased with the injection of medication. "Are you aware of what has happened in the last twenty four hours?"
"They're- they're…gone-dead-I'm all alone again!" Hermione whispered brokenly, finally feeling tears well up in her eyes as her admission sank into her very being. She wasn't sure, when it happened, if the sheer exhaustion or medication had put her to sleep; all she knew was that she was grateful for it.
She heard the inner voice that was both so like and unlike her once more as she fell into a deep sleep.
You cannot stop what we both want. Escape from the world; leave me in control of our body and our mind. Forget everything.
OoO
The next time Hermione awoke, she was unprepared to see Professor McGonagall peering at her over her glasses, hair still severely tied up in a bun, sporting muggle clothing that differed greatly to her usual robes.
"My dear girl…" Minerva murmured, clasping the young Gryffindor's hand. "How are you feeling?"
Hermione frowned, and let her head fall to the side.
"Empty."
The tubes and machines were frustrating her, and she felt that she could sleep for ever if she was allowed to close her eyes, but respectfully she kept them open, returning her gaze to her Head of House.
"Why are you here, Professor?" She said quietly, trying to keep the raw emotion of grief from her voice. Minerva maintained the gentle grip on her student's hand.
"The hospital has confirmed that you are well enough to go home, but since your only relatives are currently somewhere on the African continent, Hogwarts is the next best place." Minerva informed her. "There are only a handful of students there at the moment; most have left the castle over the break."
Hermione didn't speak.
"If you feel up to it, the other Professors and I believe it would be in your best interests to return to the castle. But it is, essentially, your choice. The other option is likely to be a foster home."
Hermione looked at the older woman for a long moment, before nodding once.
"Okay." She affirmed in a small voice that sounded defeated even to her own ears. Minerva looked sympathetic, but didn't say anything other than, "the Headmaster and I will collect you tomorrow morning". There wasn't anything to say, really. Nothing that would mean the slightest.
After the Transfiguration Professor had left – giving a kind smile and words of comfort – Hermione was left conscious for once, with only her thoughts to occupy her mind. Thoughts; and that inner turmoil of which only her parents had been aware.
Hermione had suffered since childhood from what was known in the muggle world as 'Multiple Personality Disorder'. When she had been very young, there had been numerous personalities, though, as she had aged, they had gradually decreased to a main conflicting pair: her regular self and that which she had given the name Hera. When Hermione was dominant, Hera waited dormant until she could latch on to an opportunity, burying Hermione's awareness in the depths of the mind and leaving her with bouts of selected amnesia.
Hera was Hermione's opposite in many ways. Confidant and sassy, she was the embodiment of Hermione's exhibitionist side - the one that in Hermione was relegated to her desperate need to prove herself intellectually. In Hera, it was a dominant trait that led to a kind of sexual deviance and personal confidence that had resulted in many a shopping trip being concluded with more than one pair of expensive, suggestive lingerie making its way into her purchases. More than once, Hermione had found other more embarrassing products, but these were usually hidden, removed or returned at a later date – though she had kept the tongue piercing (the most recent experiment of her alter ego), and the tattoo wasn't likely to be removed either (a sixteenth birthday present of Hera's; a two headed snake that wrapped around the top of her thigh and over her right hip bone).
Where Hermione was shy, Hera was loud; where Hermione was introverted, Hera was extroverted.
Hermione like control, Hera relished relinquishing it all to fate.
Hermione sighed to herself, feeling tired and weak. Perhaps she could relax the bonds she had placed around her mind to prevent Hera from overwhelming her. Perhaps she could escape from the world, if only for a moment.
Let it happen, Hermione. Let me take control.
She fell into an exhausted sleep once more, not to awaken until the following morning.
OoO
The eyes that opened the next morning were not the usual shade of dark-brown, but almost golden in colour. If Dumbledore noticed this change, however, he didn't comment, greeting her as usual, though the twinkle in his eyes was muted significantly.
The trio eventually left the hospital, having completed all the necessary paperwork, with instructions to 'ensure that Miss Granger ate well, slept well and stayed in good health despite the tragic circumstances surrounding her hospitalisation'.
They Apparated to Hogsmeade, so as to enter the castle grounds via the Eastern gate, but parted company at the Entrance Hall. Dumbledore had other business to attend to, so only Minerva accompanied her favourite student to the Head dormitory.
Naturally, the Head Girl was melancholy; un-smiling and feeling alone, she politely thanked Professor McGonagall before entering the Commons through the portrait hole.
So, that's my first instalment of 'Mirror Image'. I'm debating over who will be my main male star, but rest assured that it will be a student and not a faculty member. Hmm.
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